


I'll Catch You When You Fall

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, help????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A high school AU where Harry and Louis are on rival baseball teams and there is a lot of unrequited love going around and no one’s really sure what to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

He can’t hear anything, the only sound his heavy breathing. Sweat drips into his eyes and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, pushing his hair off his forehead in the process. With one last deep breath, he takes the ball into his hand, fingers gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white, holding it in his fingers by his hip, rolling it over and over in his palm. Nodding once he’s received his sign, he grips the ball more firmly, bringing his arm up and over and releasing it from his grip. Time seems to slow down as the ball spirals to home plate. Niall holds his breath as he watches the bat swing out to try and it, and releases a frustrated groan when it makes contact - now it’s nothing but a white speck flying over the infielder’s heads.

Harry throws off his helmet, standing up and watching in disbelief as the ball flies over even their center fielder’s head, the boy turning his hips to run faster, trying to catch the ball before it lands. But it’s no use, even if the ball had stayed in the park, the runner - Louis fucking Tomlinson, Harry thinks with a grimace - would have at least made it to third, meaning the runner in front would have made it home and the other team would have won the game and his team would have lost. Their center fielder runs into the wall, jumping to try and make a last attempt at catching the ball. He doesn’t get it and Louis makes it home, his team surrounding him and cheering so loud it’s deafening.

And Harry is just standing around, watching as the other team circles around Louis, slapping his ass and screaming and there are shouts of “I love you so fucking much, Louis Tomlinson!” Harry is a little bit heartbroken, having really wanted to win this game in particular, and he’s staring at the ground, focusing on the ground and trying not to cry. He doesn’t notice when Louis Tomlinson actually comes up to him and slaps him on the back. Harry startles, jumping up a few inches off the ground and turning to meet Louis’s blue eyes that are glowing from absolute happiness and maybe there’s a bit of satisfaction in there, as well. 

“It’s always nice to play your team, Styles,” Louis says, smile toying at his lips. “The only challenge we ever really get. You’re a really great player, maybe next year you’ll think about dumping your team and coming to play with us?” Harry’s blood boils, anger filling up his veins. He wants nothing more than to wrap his hands around Louis’ neck and squeeze until Louis no longer has any air. Harry thinks he’d get quite the satisfaction from watching the life drain from Louis’ eyes.

“No.” Harry spits at the ground near Louis’ feet, turns on his heel, and stalks away to his dug out. He’s immediately embraced by Niall, the boy burrowing his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and shoulder. 

“What did Louis want?” Niall asks, his breath tickling Harry skin. 

“Wanted me to play for him next year,” Harry answers, pulling away from the blonde so he can begin taking off his catcher’s equipment. His mask is still out on the field but he knows one of the coaches or players will get it for him. 

“What’d you say?”

“No.”

And they leave it at that, both packing their things up quietly as everyone else silently filters out of the dug out. Niall waits by the entry way while Harry stuffs the last of his things into his bat bag, slinging it over his shoulder. They walk out together, shoulder to shoulder, and go stand with the rest of their team a few feet away. The coach takes a shaky breath, trying to get his bearings, before beginning,

“It’s always hard to lose to the Bombers.” 

Harry stops him there. “No, it’s always hard to lose to Tomlinson.” 

Robin, who’s trying to act as a coach and not Harry’s father, nods his head. “Yes, it’s always hard to lose to Tomlinson.”

“And it’s even worse when Tomlinson’s son hits the winning run in,” Ed, their first basemen, butts in. 

“Guys, guys,” Niall interrupts. “As much as I love a good pity party, I feel the need to break this one up. We play them again Thursday and you know what’s going to happen?”

“We’re going to kick their asses!” Harry finishes, pumping his fist into the air. There’s a chorus of agreement and Harry smiles fondly at his team mates.

“Language, Harry,” Robin mutters under his breath, elbowing his son in the side. “Well, we’ll have to practice extra hard until then. No distractions. You have to be serious about beating them. Practice every day from three to seven sound good?”

Everyone groans but there’s a silent agreement that everyone will be there, no matter what. Someone will probably show up complaining about an ache or an illness or whatever, but they’ll still be there and that kind of loyalty is all that matters, why their team works so well. 

“See you all tomorrow at noon then, don’t be late or you’re running!” Robin warns as everyone disperses. 

Harry hugs his dad, somehow now taller than Robin (when did that happen?). “I’ll meet you at home.” 

Robin nods, like he understands, and walks away, waving one last time over his shoulder before he turns a corner and disappears from Harry’s line of sight. And Harry doesn’t feel bad that now he’ll have to call Liam for a ride and doesn’t feel bad that he’s wasting time he could be spending time with his dad and bonding over something that wasn’t baseball related. No. He felt bad because his dad knows what Harry’s doing, who he’s going to see. And even though it breaks Robin’s heart, Harry still goes and does it, sneaks off (can it really be counted at sneaking off when Robin knows Harry’s doing it?) and sees this person. And it’s not even really all that satisfying to Harry, because this person actually hates Harry. But it’s not enough to stop Harry from doing it, every single time.

Harry sits on the empty bleachers and unties the laces of his cleats, pulling them from his feet. He slips on his sandals but not really sandals (Niall calls them slides and Harry supposes he should too) and stands up again. The dead grass crunches beneath his feet, the smell of overpriced and underdone hot dogs and hamburgers wafting from the concession stand. There are two other diamonds playing, diamond six and diamond eight. Harry’s standing at diamond five now and he needs to get over to eight, wants to watch the game that’s about to start, knows if he gets over there now he’ll be able to watch the whole thing.

He begins walking over, arms crossed over his chest. The sun’s starting to set and the lights have been turned on, illuminating the fields even if it’s not needed yet. He makes it to diamond eight, slipping silently on the bleachers next to Jay Tomlinson. She gives him a knowing smile but doesn’t say anything, just silently offers him the box of Goldfish. He gladly accepts them, plunging his hand in and grabbing a handful of his favorite snack. 

“I think on Thursday you’ll finally beat us,” Jay says, sometime between when the first pitch thrown and the first home run is hit.

“You think?” 

“Yeah.” That’s all she offers up though, otherwise she’s silent and drinking her water bottle because she’s been at the fields for over twelve hours and probably wants nothing more than to go home. Harry’s given up on expecting her to go on and explain why she thinks Harry’s team will win when she actually does continue, “Your team has more drive to win. We’ve beaten you, now they’re going to expect to beat you next time, as well. They won’t have the same urge to win as you will, and that’s what’ll end up mattering in the end.”

Harry is silent for a moment, taking in her words. He wants to thank her, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to express his gratitude properly. “He’s your son, though. Why would you admit this, even if you were thinking it?”

Jay sighs, clearly expecting Harry to want more of an explanation for her words, but not really wanting to give one. “I’m not really sure. There’s just something about you, Harry.”

“Is it because I’m in love with your son?” Harry asks genuinely, though he’s not sure if Jay can hear him over the cheering.

Louis’ just hit another game winning home run.

\- - -

Louis tries his hardest not to look at his father, who is sitting in the driver’s seat with the key in the ignition but the engine off. But Louis’ hardest is apparently not hard enough and he sneaks a quick glance at his father. His father catches him, sighing and falling into in the seat. He opens his mouth to speak but Louis isn’t having any of it and cuts him off before he can get the first syllable out.

“Why can’t you be happy for me? I’ve hit two game-winning home runs, against a team you hate nonetheless!” Louis cries out, pulling at his hair. He wants to let his anger out, maybe by punching something, but there’s nothing he could punch right now so he settles for ripping out his hair. “You didn’t congratulate me or anything! You actually seem like you’re disappointed in me!”

“I’m not disappointed in how you play! You played a great game - you always do.” Mark glares at the steering wheel like it’s the reason for all of his problems. “You know how you play isn’t what this is about.”

And of course it’s not, it’s not about baseball at all. It’s about Harry fucking Styles and how he comes to all of the games he can, rain or shine. How he always sits with Louis’ mother and they talk and laugh and share food and barely even pay attention to the game. How ever since Louis came out to his family, his dad’s been distant and thinks that every guy he brings home means that Louis’s having sex with him or dating him and Louis just wants everything to be the way it was when he was seven. It’s about how his dad is disappointed because he thinks he knows what’s going on between Harry and Louis, even if there’s nothing there but hate and maybe a little sexual tension they need to get rid of. But at the moment, there’s nothing going on and Mark can’t understand that - it makes Louis want to scream at the top of his lungs until he doesn’t have a voice any more.

“So it’s about Styles then, and how he’s infatuated with our team and hits on your wife?” Louis says, trying (and probably failing) to keep the mood light. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. He seems to go for the older ladies, but they don’t really seem to like him. Especially the married ones and I’ve never really taken mom to be the cougar type.”

Mark seems like he wants to strangle Louis now, but he’s obviously not going to because Louis’s his star player, and instead opts for starting car. They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and when Mark pulls into the driveway he only mutters a, “Get to bed early, you’ve got school in the morning,” and hurries into the house. Most likely to speak to Jay, as he always does when Harry decides to come watch their games - Mark’s extremely curious as to what the curly-haired boy wants, but Jay apparently doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s always awkward in the morning after, when Mark’s tried to talk to her and it’s evident they’ve had a fight. Lottie and Fizzy understand, but Daisy and Phoebe are worried that something’s wrong with their parents. Louis does what he can to console him but he’s only a child himself. 

It’s just this cycle and it never ends and Louis doesn’t know how to stop it.

\- - -

“Dad?”

Niall hesitantly closes the door, praying to God it doesn’t make too much noise. He knows that if his dad doesn’t respond to Niall calling out his name, then he’s probably passed out in a pile of his own vomit. With a sigh, he trudges up the stairs and flicks off the lights as he goes - they don’t need their electric bill to be any higher than it already is.

He reaches his room and strips, his various clothing hitting the floor with a ‘thud.’ Niall plops on the bed in just his boxers, laying out as far spread as he can. It’s the only way to get comfortable when his bed is so hard. He wishes he could text Harry, Harry who always knows how to make him feel better, but he didn’t have enough money to pay the phone bill and he has to wait until next month when he might have a bit more money. 

Just like every night, Niall finds himself drifting off into an uneasy sleep. It feels like something’s missing - no wait, that’s too cliché. It feels like there’s too much in his life, suffocating him and surrounding him with no way out. He wants someone to hold him at night, pet his hair and tell him everything’s okay. He wants a hand to hold and wet lips against his warm cheek and he just wants someone to love him because God knows his family does a poor job of it. 

In the morning, Niall doesn’t feel rested at all. He didn’t expect too - doesn’t expect anything now. He goes through the motions of getting dressed, tugging on faded jeans that hang low on his hips and a fitted red polo. His favorite white Supras slide easily onto his feet and he opts for skipping breakfast, wants to avoid his dad no matter how much his stomach growls in protest. He’s out the door thirty minutes before the bell rings, able to stroll leisurely and have the sun heat up the top of his head and pink his skin. 

There are days where Niall can’t bring himself out of bed, where the darkness threatens to consume him. And he wonders how no one has realized it yet, seen through his facade. 

At school, it’s just like every other day. He greets Taylor with a smooch on the lips and a hand through her hair. She smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. She understands, more than others seem to, that he’s going to be distant sometimes. She understands that he might be using her to try and feel something again. 

He understands he’s toying with her emotions but doesn’t find himself caring any time soon. 

\- - -

Zayn wakes up to find his bed not as empty as it was when he’d fallen asleep. 

“Either I was sleep - drinking and picked up some random at a bar or you’ve snuck into my bed again, Lou.” He struggles to open his eyes, sleep still threatening him and making his brain all foggy. “What’s wrong, babe?”

There’s a rustling of the sheets as both boys turn over to face each other. It’s almost uncomfortable, their arms squished in between their bodies and the bed. Louis’ eyes are bloodshot, his eyelashes sticking together from drying tears. 

“What’s happened this time?” Zayn uses the hand that’s not trapped under his body to rub soothing circles on Louis’ exposed hip. He waits for the older boy to get done sniffling and taking calming breaths, let’s Louis do this on his own. 

“My dad is implying that I’m a slut and in love with Harry Styles.” That’s new, actually. Or Zayn’s never heard it before - it’s always baseball arguments, never being good enough, and disappointing everyone. And both of those things Louis’s been accused of aren’t true - or Zayn doesn’t think they’re true. Louis’s not a slut, by any means. He and Zayn sometimes have a little fun after they’ve had a few drinks, but Louis doesn’t sleep with just anyone. And he’s never said the name ‘Harry Styles’ without disgust lacing his tone and anger in his eyes. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m gay?” Louis shrugs the best he can. “He’s just an asshole and doesn’t approve of me being gay - like why the hell does he even have to approve it in the first place? - and he’s just looking for fights and I wish I could whack him with a baseball bat.” 

Zayn goes to say something, but gets cut off by his mother banging on the door and saying that he ‘better get his lazy ass out of bed or he was going to be late for school again and she didn’t give a fuck if he got another detention and had to quit baseball.’ So with a resigned sigh they roll out of bed on their respective sides - they’ve done this enough times to know that if they don’t roll out on opposite sides they’ll get kicked in the face. 

Louis’ cheeks have pink marks all over them from the pillowcase being mushed against his face. Zayn grins and rubs his fingers over them, feeling the creases on his fingertips and Louis purrs affectionately. It’s all Zayn can do not to laugh, because sometimes Louis reminds him of this cat and bunny mixture, and proceeds to take off his shirt.

“Do we have time for a quick shag before school?” Louis asks, staring almost hungrily at Zayn’s exposed chest. 

“No, not really. Unless you want to be late and have to stop playing baseball for the rest of the season.” Zayn shrugs like it doesn’t really affect him - it doesn’t really, he just doesn’t exactly like having sex with Louis when they’re totally sober. It’s full of awkward eye contact and repressed moans and Zayn remembering every detail and how Louis’ cheeks flushed when he reaches his high. It’s just…not right unless there’s some alcohol involved to take the edge off. 

“God dammit,” Louis curses, his footsteps light as he makes his way to Zayn’s closet. He searches for something appropriate to wear before deciding on a pair of jeans Zayn’s outgrown (and they’ll be the perfect kind of tight on Louis) and a loose fitting shirt - well, that’s what he always picks, Zayn’s too preoccupied with trying to get his hair to go just the right way to care. “You know, to really add to the burn, I’ll have to see Styles and company today. I really don’t want to, you know? After all that shit with my dad, I just…”

“Want to skip? I know the feeling.” Zayn wraps a friendly arm around Louis’ shoulder and they slowly creep down the stairs. Passing on breakfast, they shout their goodbyes to Zayn’s mother and pile into Zayn’s car. It’s a piece of crap, really, but it gets them to and from where they need to be so it’ll do until Zayn can afford a new one.

It’s a short drive to school, not even ten minutes, and a quiet one as well. Louis’ not very talkative in the morning, and especially not right now as he tries to make it look like he hasn’t spent the whole night crying. He finally deems himself ready for the public as Zayn pulls into the same parking space as he always does. It’s not like it’s reserved for him, but it might as well be because nobody parks there unless they want their car deformed and bashed. Zayn’s got a temper and he’s not really afraid to show it.

It’s as they’re walking into school, arms slung carelessly over each other, Louis sees that unwanted face. Or maybe it’s wanted but - nope, it’s unwanted. He grimaces at Harry Styles (who is just blatantly staring, like who the fuck does he think he is?) and continues walking. He doesn’t really pay attention and just let’s Zayn guide him.

Right into a trash can.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high school AU where Harry and Louis are on rival baseball teams and there is a lot of unrequited love going around and no one’s really sure what to do about it.

“So… He like, literally walked right into the trash can and fell into it?” Liam asks for the fifth time. Now he’s more shocked than anything- Louis Tomlinson, the most popular boy in school, fell in to a trash can. It’s almost unbelievable, and Harry still has laughter in his eyes from it, a cheeky smirk set on his lips.

“It’s satisfying, isn’t it?” Niall says with a dreamy look to his eyes. He’s looking up at the sky and Liam has the urge to ask him what he’s staring at but, but holds back and waits for Niall to finish his thought. “Just months ago Louis was attempting (and failing) to shove Harry and I into a trash can. Now, he’s actually fallen into the trash can. It’s hilarious. And how Malik is avoiding him now - priceless!”

“I’d feel bad if he weren’t such an ass,” Harry adds, brushing his curls off his forehead with his palm. It doesn’t really work, the strands immediately springing back into place - or out of it if you asked Harry - and he sighs. He’s hungry and tired and frustrated but he still has to get through two more classes and his baseball practice. He only wants to go home, take a long and hot shower (might need a good long wank too) and then collapse into bed before he has to do it all again. “But he is an ass, so I don’t feel bad.”

“The bell’s about to ring, Harry. We better get going,” Niall says, tossing the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. His cheeks puff with the effort of holding it all in his mouth and chewing, but he manages to get it down to a size where he can swallow it. “We’ll get to laugh at Louis - and laugh at Zayn purposely avoiding him.  I mean, they didn’t even sit together at lunch today!”

Harry rolls his eyes and makes to grab Niall’s wrist to pull him along. But the blonde is too fast for him, ducking away from the touch and tripping over his too-large-for-him feet and landing on his butt. Harry doubles over in laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand and using his knee to hold him up with the other. Niall stays on the ground, too embarrassed and stubborn to stand up and show his face again - he’s throwing something of a hissy fit, cheeks red from the mortification and hair falling into his eyes to hide them from the courtyard.

The bell rings, but it barely registers in either of their minds. Harry’s still laughing and trying to catch his breath, tears streaming from his eyes and face scarlet from laughing so hard - he’s sure he’s got abs now! Niall on the other hand, has taken up the fetal position, curled inward on himself and gently rocking side to side. It’s only moments later when a teacher catches them - yells and screams and flails her arms around because they don’t have passes, then grabs their wrists to drag them to the office - that it registers it wasn’t all that funny and definitely not worth the detention they’re sure to get.

She leaves them outside the door, knocking harshly on the wood once, and walks off - apparently she trusts them not to wander off. It’s only a few short moments later that the principal is opening the door, face flushed red with anger and belly hanging out over his belt. He doesn’t look surprised to see either of them (so maybe they frequent his office a little too often) and only opens the door wider so they can slip past him. It’s only once they’re both through the doorway do they notice they’re not alone, that Tomlinson is sitting in a fold up metal chair off to the side.

“Are you redecorating?” Harry asks, mostly because the air’s turned awkward and it’s kind of…smothering. “Really, Sheldon, I love what you’ve done to the place.”

“It’s Mr. Litell to you, Styles. Now have a seat, the both of you.” He gestures to another fold up chair next to Tomlinson and Niall swiftly steals it out from under Harry - literally. Harry ends up on Niall’s lap, not an unfamiliar position, mind you, but not really one Tomlinson and Mr. Litell had to witness. But Harry’s comfortable and Niall’s not protesting so he’s stays where he’s at and Niall’s hands find their way to his hips, if not a bit stiffly and informal. “Now what are you here for this time?”

“Skipping class,” Niall answers, leaning a little bit to his left so he’s able to make eye contact with Mr. Litell. “Nothing new.”

“Exactly what Mr. Tomlinson is in for.” Mr. Litell is silent for a moment, thinking intently on how he’s going to punish them - detention doesn’t appear to be working so he’ll need a new tactic. “Horan, you’re on kitchen duty. Come with me.”

“But I don’t know how to cook!” Niall protests, though shoving Harry off nonetheless. Harry lands on the ground with a loud ‘oomph!’ and Niall laughs like it’s the funniest thing since…well, something that was hilariously funny. Harry supposes it’s probably payback for laughing at Niall earlier in the courtyard and getting them into this situation.

“Well the lunch ladies don’t really know how to cook either so I guess you’ll fit right in. And stop laughing, it’s annoying!” Mr. Litell snaps and stomps his way out of the room. Harry swears up and down that the whole school shakes with each step the balding man takes.

“He’s just going to leave us here alone?” Tomlinson speaks for the first time. Harry jumps at the sound of the boy’s smooth voice, forgetting that he’d been in there as well.

“Suppose so.”

“He trusts us not to kill each other?”

“That or he’s hoping we will.”

Louis snorts out a laugh, short and sweet sounding. He seems to regret the noise as soon as it’s out of his mouth, though, covering his lips with his palm and widening his eyes. It’s kind of comical to look at, but Harry finds it adorable in a way, just like everything else Tomlinson does. Louis’s either adorable or infuriating and both seem to turn Harry on. Damn teenage hormones, always making him horny.

“Probably more likely. When do you think he’ll be back?”

Harry shrugs, one easy lift of his shoulder before he drops it back down again. “A while. Niall’s bound to give him a hard time. Litell’s actually quite fond of the little Irish man - I’m actually afraid he might be raped one of these days.”

This time Louis doesn’t allow his laughter to pass through his lips, but Harry can see it, threatening to bubble over and make Harry smile and want to kiss Louis - well actually, Louis doesn’t even have to laugh for Harry to want to kiss him.

“Can I ask you something?” Louis’ voice startles Harry from his thoughts again.

“Didn’t really give me a choice, sweet cheeks.” Venom drips from his words, but Harry thinks Louis might have caught onto the way that they don’t really hate each other any more.

Louis pretends to pout, puffing out his lower lip (Harry wants to bite it and shifts so Louis doesn’t see the tightening in his pants). “That’s rude - and here I was thinking that we were suddenly getting along!”

Harry smirks, rubbing his sweating palms on his jeans. “What was your question?”

“Oh yeah, that!” Louis takes a moment before spitting out, “Why do you always come to my games?” There’s no pause between the words and Louis looks like he wants to take the words and shove them back down his throat. “I mean, never mind, you don’t have to answer that. I was just wondering, and now I’m rambling, shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I find it quite cute, actually,” Harry teases, poking out his tongue and wiggling his eyebrows in a way he still hasn’t quite mastered.

“You do?” Louis winks and Harry’s blood decides it wants to relocate to his dick and yeah…this isn’t how he pictured he would spend his time with Louis Tomlinson when they were locked alone in a room together. But in all honesty, doesn’t his blood have anything better to do - like…keep him alive or something?!

“You bet your beautiful ass I do, Tommo.” Harry winks too, but he doesn’t think it gives out quite the same effect because Louis laughs…yeah, no.

When he finishes laughing, Louis licks his lips (god dammit, that does nothing to help Harry’s situation). “But really Harry, doesn’t it get boring? Why are you there? I know it’s not to flirt with mom, if that’s what you’re going to try and play it off as.”

“It’d just…be easier to show you, yeah?” He’s taking a risk and he knows it. Harry doesn’t even know how Louis is going to react. But it’s worth a shot, because Harry can’t be sure of what’s going to happen.

“Are you going to show me a tattoo on your butt, or something?” Louis looks wary, eyes wide and glimmering with concern. Maybe for himself, or maybe for Harry’s nonexistent butt tattoo.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Harry reassures him, taking a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. “Just…don’t freak out, okay?”

Louis looks like he wants to protest, opens his mouth like he’s going to voice that he’s not okay with this. But before he can, Harry’s gripped him by the shoulders and is connecting their lips. It’s messy and slobbery and their teeth keep knocking together but it gets his point across well, Harry supposes. Louis doesn’t push him away, but he’s doesn’t really respond to the kiss either. He moves his lips a bit, but he’s not as into it as Harry would like. With a sigh of frustration, Harry pulls away.

Louis looks completely wrecked. His hair is sticking up every which way (how the fuck did that happen when Harry didn’t even touch Louis’ hair?), his lips are red and starting to swell from the aggressive kiss, and his entire face is flushed - Harry wants to think it’s from the kiss, but most likely it’s from anger.

Harry waits for Louis to speak first, to break the awkward silence they’ve found themselves in.

“Harry…I’m flattered and all but…” Louis trails off, leave the words to hang in the tense air. ”I just…”

“If it’s about our dads then I don’t care, they can take their opinions and shove them up their asses.”

Louis chuckles, brushing his thumb over Harry cheek gently. “It’s not that…well part of it is, but. I don’t do the whole dating thing.”

“Can you try?” Harry looks so hopeful, his eyes so expectant. “Please? Just…please?”

“I hope you don’t mind sneaking around then,” Louis whispers, his breath tickling Harry’s face and racking his body with goose bumps and shivers. “I really don’t want my dad finding out. And just one date, alright? I don’t really like being held down.”

“Sounds good to me!” Harry winces at how eager he sounds. His smile is wide on his face, stretching his lips and setting his dimples deep into his cheeks. Louis likes the look of Harry’s dimples, wishes the boy would smile more. He continues to run his thumb over Harry’s left dimple (it’s bigger than the right and cute and makes Louis want to ruin that image of innocence Harry seems to have). 

“I’ll meet you here after our practices tonight, okay?” Harry can only nod because Mr. Litell is back and they’re hurrying to jump away from each other.

“Mr. Styles.” Harry looks up to see Mr. Litell looking at him with disapproving eyes. 

“Yes?”

“Would you like to be excused to the bathroom to fix your problem?”

Louis’s giggling at his side and Harry wishes the ground would swallow him up, date with Louis be damned. 

“Er…please?”

Harry waddles as quickly as he can out of the room, Louis’ obnoxious (not really) laugh sounding behind him.

God dammit, Louis fucking Tomlinson was going to be the fucking death of him, he was sure of it.


	3. Chapter Three

“Styles!” Harry looks up from where he’s staring into his water bottle and sees Robin running across the field to him. “Hey, I need to talk to you!”

He waits for Robin to reach him, screwing the cap of his water bottle shut tightly. “Yeah?”

Robin huffs a little, breathing hard. He takes a moment to compose himself before saying, “You seem off today. What’s wrong?”

“Just have a lot on my mind, yeah?” Harry answers, setting his water jug down on the bench. “I’m sorry - just feeling a bit off and all that. I’ll try and focus more.” He tries to smile sincerely, to make Robin go away, but his dad still looks unconvinced.

“You’re sure there’s nothing more to it?” he asks, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry is forced to look up, right into his dad’s eyes. He’s a terrible liar, and so he sighs and resigns to the fact that he’ll have to admit to being distracted because he’s going out.

“I met someone, yeah?” Harry replies, mumbling because he doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “And we’re going out after practice. I’m just excited, is all.” He gives a little shrug, as if to say, ‘it’s no big deal.’ “I’ll try harder to focus, if that will make you feel better.”

“Oh. You’re going out with them…tonight?” Robin’s face falls, eyes losing the glow they normally have when doing anything baseball related. “I thought we had plans, Harry. We’ve been planning this for months now, thought we’d go and get something to eat. Maybe catch up on what’s going on in each other’s lives?” 

Harry’s expression freezes in realization. Oh yeah, shit, he was supposed to hang out with his dad tonight. “I’m so sorry!” he gushes, twirling a curl in his finger to keep his hands busy. “I just…forgot! Can we do it another night?”

“Why can’t you do it another night?” 

Harry feels so bad, looking at his dad’s face. He’s totally ruined his dad’s night, having admitted to their plans and then forgetting about them. And he feels so bad for having to say, “No, I don’t think I can. I get one chance, one chance to win them over. And I’m just…can you keep a secret?”

Robin nods, one quick bob of his head. He always likes it when Harry confines in him, trusts him and the lot of that. “Of course.”

“I’m going on a date with Louis Tomlinson.”

Robin doesn’t look surprised, doesn’t feel shocked, or anything of the like. If he’s going to be honest, he expected it. Expected that this day would come, where Harry admits that he likes guys as much as he likes girls and that he’s in love with Louis Tomlinson. He just never really expected his son would come out in such a public place. Maybe it makes sense, that they share this moment on the baseball field, when it seems to be the only thing they bond over any more. 

“Oh. Well, then, yeah, I suppose we can do this tomorrow.” Robin let’s go of Harry and takes a step back, looks at Harry like it’s the first time he’s ever seen the boy. “Have fun and don’t blow it.”

“Don’t blow it? C’mon, Dad, how do you expect him to want to take me out again?”

Robin forces out a laugh, suspecting it to be some sort of joke. But Harry is only barely smirking, corners of his lips turning upward, but there’s some truth hiding away in his eyes.

“That’s gross and I don’t really want to hear about it so I’m going to walk away, yeah?” Robin does a two-finger salute and jogs across the field again, dust flying up with every step he takes. Harry rolls his eyes and takes one last swig of his water before setting it down on the bench and sliding his glove back onto his hand. 

Practice flies by after that and Harry and Robin are the only ones left at the end, stuck with having to clean up and pack away all of the equipment. 

“When are you going out with Tomlinson?” Robin yells from across the field. He’s got two bases in his hand and is carrying them to the storage shed just outside of the field. “And when do you think you’ll be home?”

“I was just supposed to meet him after our practices, so.” Harry shrugs though he’s aware his dad can’t see it. “I don’t know when I’ll be home either, so don’t wait up?” Robin makes his way back to the dug-out, his metal cleats sounding loud on the concrete. 

“Well what do you know?” he asks as he puts Harry’s catcher’s gear into the oversized bag. “I mean, do you even know where you’re going? What you’re doing?”

“I know absolutely nothing,” Harry answers. He hooks the strap of his bag over his shoulder, the weight familiar to him. “Can I go put this in your truck now? That way I don’t have to do it while he’s here.”

“When who’s here?” 

Harry and Robin both startle at the sound of a new voice entering their conversation. Harry looks up from where he staring at his feet at the intruder, who happens to be the very same person they had been talking about just moment before. How much did he hear? Harry wonders to himself. 

“You,” Harry replies sheepishly, running his warm hand over the back of his sweaty and heated neck. “I’ve got to put away my bag and then we’ll go?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll walk with you?” Louis offers, gesturing with his hand to the area of the parking lot. Harry nods silently and follows Louis out the gate. They walk down the hill together, neither saying much aside from asking how the other was. When they reach the truck Harry only throws his bag in the bed and waves goodbye to his dad before yet again following Louis, this time to Louis’ own car. 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks once they’re settled in and silence falls on them. 

“My house. I wanted to make you dinner and we could watch a movie?” Louis appears timid, almost afraid that Harry’s going to laugh at him and jump out of the car.

“Sounds good. Simple.” Harry smiles warmly and receives a smile in return. Louis turns the key in the ignition and the car starts, engine rumbling. Louis cautiously pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. Normally he’d be speeding away but he doesn’t want to wreck or get a speeding ticket on the first date and make a horrible impression upon Harry.

It doesn’t take them all too long to get to Louis’ house (they could have walked but Louis had his gear from practice and they were both sweaty messes) and the car is silent once again as they pull into the driveway. 

“No one’s home,” Louis says out of the blue. Harry looks over to him with a raised eyebrow, smirk set on his lips. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that we won’t have my sisters there bothering us and talking over the movie and eating our food. What did you think I meant, dirty bastard?” Louis is laughing by the end of his rant and Harry’s giggling silently, body shaking with the effort to keep the sound from coming out.

“Are we just going to sit here all night or…?” 

“Oh, right!” Louis exclaims as his throws open his car door and climbs out clumsily, barely undoing his seatbelt in time in his haste. Harry starts to follow but Louis yells “stop!” and runs around the front of the car, slamming the car door in Harry’s face. Harry looks on at this scene with an amused smile, laughter shining in his eyes. Louis then proceeds to calmly open the door for Harry, like the proper gentleman he was raised to be. “There. I want to do this right, Styles, so stop ruining it for me!”

Harry realises that Louis must be nervous, if he’s acting like this and losing his cool. Deciding not to make it worse, he takes the hand Louis extends toward him and pulls himself from the car without mumbling a word. 

“So I’m the girl in the relationship?” Harry teases, tightening his grip on Louis’ hand when the older boy tries to untangle their fingers. 

“Obviously. Because you’re so much more feminine than I am.” Louis winks and uses his free hand to pull his house keys from his pocket and unlock the door. “After you, m’lady.” He goes the whole nine yards with the act, bowing and extending his arms. Harry bops Louis on the back of the head on his way inside and Louis retaliates by smacking him on the ass.

Harry turns the top of his body in time to see Louis wink. Harry pretends to be offended, turning around all the way now and throwing his hand over his chest with a dramatic gasp. He squeals in a high-pitched and nasally voice, “Excuse you! I need to be wined and dined before we even think about doing that. I thought you would be a gentleman but it turns out you’re just like the rest!” Louis has tears in his eyes by the end of girl-Harry’s speech and Harry himself is fighting off laughter.

“You know, Styles, you’re not so bad,” Louis admits, walking the few steps to close the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. He lays his head on Harry’s chest and listens to his heartbeat and feels the rise and fall of his chest. “Not bad at all,” he whispers, almost as if to himself.

When they finally untangle from each other, each keep an arm around the other’s waist, they make their way to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure what we have,” Louis explains from where he’s at the refrigerator, his head buried deep within the shelves as he looks for something that hasn’t expired yet. He finally crawls out from the fridge, closing the door with a quiet thump. “I actually don’t think we have anything. You sprung this on me, I had no time to prepare!”

“So now this is my fault?” Harry chuckles and licks his lips, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the years.

“Stop doing that!” Louis cries, his left hand gripping at his hair in frustration. “God dammit, Styles, you’re infuriating.”

“What am I doing that’s so infuriating?”

“Licking your porn star lips,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms childishly and leaning against the counter. Harry smirks (god dammit, that smirk, Louis thinks) and crosses the room to stand before Louis. He uncrosses Louis’ arm for him, placing them on Harry’s shoulders. Harry sets his hands on the counter next to Louis’ hips and leans in until their foreheads are touching and their mouths are a breath away.

“Like this?” Harry licks his lips again, this time more slowly and sucking the lower one in between his teeth. Louis nods eagerly, wanting Harry to continue. Harry does it again, a wet ring forming around his plump mouth and Louis wants to lick Harry’s lips too, just to see what it feels like, so he does. Harry seems taken back before he reacts, gripping Louis’ hips firmly and slotting their mouths together. 

Louis gasps in surprise, giving Harry just enough room to slip his tongue inside Louis’ mouth, the wet heat causing Harry to moan in pleasure. Louis moves his hands from Harry’s shoulders to his hair, taking a fistful in each hand, just leaving them be until Harry growls. Louis takes the hint and yanks on Harry’s hair and Harry shoves him more forcefully against the counter. Louis detaches their lips and sucks a dark bruise on Harry’s neck, soothing it with his tongue. Harry throws his head back to give Louis better access and Louis uses this to his advantage to flip them so Harry’s the one against the counter.

“I’m going to have a bruise now, asshole,” Harry mutters, leaning down to suck a purple bruise on Louis’ collarbone where his shirt has been roughly pushed to the side. 

“Good,” is all Louis replies with before using Harry’s hair to smash their lips together once more. Harry thrusts his hips forward, his crotch colliding with Louis’ and they both moan, wanting more friction. 

Without disconnecting their lips, Louis pulls them to the living room, stumbling over their own feet and running into wall corners. They collapse on the couch in the living room, Louis straddling Harry’s hips and grinding down into them. Harry thrusts up and for a moment their lips stay connected, unmoving, as they grind against each other trying to create more friction. They’re so wrapped up the moans they’re pulling from each other that they don’t notice the slamming of a door and loud giggling coming from the entrance way. They do, however notice the audible gasp coming from the doorway of the living room.

“Oh!” Louis pulls away from Harry as quick as he can, a trail of spit still connecting their lips. He wipes it away and twists the top half of his body to look at his mother. She’s standing in the entryway trying not to grin, but Louis and Harry can both see it in her eyes. “I knew it!” She starts backing away, allowing a smile to form on her face, “I won’t say anything to Dad and uhhh, you two fix yourselves and I’ll keep the girls out while you, uhhh, clean yourselves up.”

Harry is laughing loudly beneath him and Louis is turning an odd shade of red in embarrassment. “I am so sorry! I just…I didn’t think they’d be home and oh my God, this is so embarrassing and - !”

“Louis, shut up,” Harry says, pecking him swiftly on the lips and effectively quieting the rambling boy above him. “Just get off me so I can readjust myself.” 

Louis realizes he’s still straddling Harry’s hips and apologizes once more before sliding off and sitting at the end of the couch, discreetly trying to readjust his pants so they don’t show is bulge as much. Harry does the same, sitting up and pressing his hand to Louis’ thigh before standing up. He extends his hand to Louis and he takes it gratefully, tangling their fingers and leading Harry to where Jay and the girls are cooking in the kitchen. 

“Mom?” Jay looks up from where she’s chopping tomatoes and Lottie smiles knowingly from her place at the table. “I’m going to take Harry home now.”

“Alright, we’ll talk when you get home.” She pecks Louis’ cheeks sweetly, before shoving them both out the door. Harry laughs again (Louis has noticed he enjoys Harry’s laugh and appreciates the fact that Harry laughs a lot). 

They’re not silent on the drive home, unlike the first time they were in the car together, instead talking about everything from their English assignment to what they were having for lunch tomorrow to embarrassing moments they had as children. In no time at all Louis is pulling into Harry’s driveway. Harry learned the first time to wait and smiles gratefully when Louis opens his door for him. 

“You don’t have to walk me up to the door, you know,” Harry says with a shy smile. 

“I have to play my part as a gentleman!” Louis protests, squeezing their entwined hands. They reach the porch and stand in front of the door. It’s almost awkward and Louis just doesn’t do awkward so he surges forward and connects their lips once again that night. It’s nothing like their other kisses though, this one is sweet and soft and slow with Louis carefully twirling Harry’s hair in between his fingers and Harry rubbing Louis’ hips through his shirt. They pull away, resting their foreheads together and bumping noses.

“Thanks, Mr. Gentleman. I appreciated it. Can we do it again sometime?” Harry asks timidly, kicking the ground and releasing Louis’ hips.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d really like that,” Louis answers with one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheeks. He waves and turns around to walk back to his car. Harry stands on the porch long enough to watch Louis drive away down the street before opening the door and letting the cool air waft over his burning face. He shuts the door with a dull thud and slides down it to the floor, goofy smile taking over his face.

“I take it you had a good time?” Anne asks from her perch at the bottom of the stairs.

And Harry can only nod because he’s not sure he could speak without throwing up everything he’s eaten. “It was amazing. He was amazing. Everything’s amazing. I just, ugh. He’s going to make my heart race so fast that it’ll just stop from exhaustion. Does that happen?”

“No, I don’t think there are any known cases of dying from being in love,” she answers, and Gemma butts in from where she stands in the kitchen and calls out “Suicide!” but is shushed by Robin. 

“Go to bed, Harry,” Anne mumbles, hugging him quickly and shoving him up the stairs. Harry continues to smile the whole way up. He changes as if in a daze and clambers into bed clumsily. He makes sure to check his phone and what’s written there causes him to fall asleep with a smile.

“ _Goodnight, m’lady_.”


	4. Chapter Four

Harry sees Louis around school, and every time he receives a blinding smile from the sparking blue eyed boy. Each smile is enough to make Harry’s entire day better, often raising his mood from terribly shitty to to terrific in a matter of seconds. It’s pathetic how much of a teenage girl Harry is being.

They’ve also been texting nonstop, glued to their phones every moment they’re granted. Louis’ already had his phone taken away in class and Harry’s been given a warning. They still continue their classroom texting, though through more subtle movements and only when the teacher isn’t paying any mind to the class.

It’s Wednesday night and Louis’ over at Harry’s house watching a movie, his head in Harry’s lap and eyes focused on Harry’s beautiful face.

Harry notices Louis’ staring, glancing down and smiling sleepily. “Do I have something on my face?” He uses the hand he hasn’t placed on Louis’ face to push Louis’ hair off his forehead lazily. “Or are you staring because I’m beautiful?”

“Mmmm, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Louis admits, though later he’ll blame it on how tired and out of it he is. “But no, I was thinking about tomorrow night. We play each other, you know.”

“I remember,” Harry says, rucking Louis’ shirt up a bit to place his hand on the warm skin underneath. “Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

“And then kiss it better, right?” Louis adds cheekily, throwing in a wink for dramatic effect. Sometimes they act more like best friends than two people who are dating, and that’s what makes them work so well, Louis decides. They’ve fallen into this pattern so easily.

“Of course,” Harry agrees. “It’s a wonderful ass, by the way. I don’t think I’ve complimented it yet.”

“Well you have now,” Louis laughs. It’s not a forced laugh like the one he does when anyone else goes and compliments his feminine ass (really, he fucking hates it - it sticks out and bumps into things and boys and girls alike stare at it way too much) but instead a real laugh, because it’s Harry and that explains it all. “Thanks, though. I’m sure my round bum needed the confidence boost.”

“Anything to help,” Harry mumbles quietly, almost in audible. He’s focused on his tongue now, poking it out of his parted lips and curling the sides up. Louis wants to laugh at how childish Harry looks, his eyes cross eyed and determined and tongue sticking out like a dog. Harry goes and does these things to him, and Louis doesn’t really think it’s fair when he can’t seem to pull the same reaction put of Harry, but he’ll take what he’s been dealt.

“Is my tongue too distracting for you?” Harry asks, finally realizing that Louis is focusing on him rather than the movie.

“No, it’s just the perfect amount of distraction.” Louis smiles, tired once again. Harry resumes petting Louis’ head (not that Louis had realized Harry had stopped) and lures Louis to sleep.

Louis wakes up a few hours later, confused and cold and alone. His head feels like it weighs a ton and it hurts to lift it, so he slumps grumpily back into the cushions. He remembers he’s at Harry’s house, on Harry’s couch, but Harry himself is missing.

“Where did that bastard get to now?” Louis mutters to himself, his voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. He listens intently for any sounds of movement in the large house and hears footsteps from upstairs. He moves to push himself from the cushions (which is nearly impossible seeing as they’re so worn and plush) but pauses when he hears the hushed voices.

The voices stop seconds later and are followed by the loud slamming of a door. The sound rings throughout the house, even after it’s quieted. The slamming of a door symbolizes an argument in Louis’ house, so he figures it the same at Harry’s.

Louis strains his ears to hear anything else, seeing as the person who slammed the door failed to move away from the war zone or Louis failed to hear it. He picks up on quiet sniffles and just knows, feels it deep in himself, that it’s Harry crying, feeling all alone though another breathing body is a floor away and another separated by a door.

Unsure if he’s over stepping any boundaries, Louis finally manages to get himself off the couch and stumbles as quietly as he can to the stairway. He’s only been up the stairs once, the first time he was invited over and Harry gave him a tour. He prances up the stairs two at a time. When he reaches the top, he looks to the right and is met with the heart breaking sight of Harry curled into a ball on the ground, trying to quiet his sobs with snot pouring from his nose. Louis makes his way over to the broken boy, tentative. He figures it’s kind of like approaching a wild animal, no sudden movements.

“Harry,” Louis whispers in a hushed tone, voice laced with concern. “Harry, do you want to get out of here? Maybe go for a drive?”

Harry nods, allowing a whimper to pass his lips. Louis wants to cry as well, seeing Harry all upset over whatever it is that he and his father were fighting about. But he won’t, because Harry needs him right now.

Louis helps Harry from the ground, tangling their fingers together on one hand. Harry seems content to follow Louis silently down the stairs, the sounds he’s making being sniffles as his nose runs unceasingly and pathetic attempts at stifling his sobs.

“Let’s get you a tissue first, okay baby?” Louis says as soothing as he’s able to. “Would you like to go get some ice cream? Then head back to my place? I’m sure my mom would allow you to stay the night. I’ve got some clothes that would fit you lying around. Or you can sleep naked. I wouldn’t mind that.” Louis winks, trying to think of any way he may be able to cheer Harry up. Harry smile is wobbly, lips quivering.

“Okay,” Harry agrees softly, unable to force it to go any higher after crying for so long.

They make their way out the front door and down the porch steps. Louis can sense Robin standing at the top of the stairs but does his best to ignore the man. When Harry is working on getting himself into the car without looking like a fool or hurting himself, Louis spares a glance towards Robin to see he hasn’t moved. Louis is surprised to see Robin crying as much as Harry, if not more, but Louis turns away nonetheless and refuses to let the curiosity get the best of him and so he doesn’t turn around.

Louis plops into the car wordlessly, turning the key in the ignition and feeling the engine purr to life. Harry seems to slowly unwind the farther they get from the house, his head lolling back against the head rest.

“I’m really glad you’re with me, Lou,” Harry admits, red dotting his face. “Thank you.”

Louis doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes Harry’s hand and kisses the palm, tangling their fingers once more.

He figures that’s enough of a reply anyway.


	5. Chapter Five

Harry finally manages to calm down enough to slow his breathing to a more normal pace and almost stop the tears falling from his eyes. Louis holds his hand through it all, gently squeezing it to reassure Harry that he is here for him. 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks once he’s able to talk. “Are we seriously going to get ice cream? Louis, they’re closed right now, it’s really stupid to drive all the way out here and then have to turn around and head to your place.”

“We’re seriously getting ice cream,” is all Louis gives as an answer, and Harry figures that’s the best response he’s going to receive anyway. “Oh, and can you text Zayn and tell him to open up?”

Harry nods and searches for Louis’ phone. He finds it, throwing his hand in the air and calling out a battle cry. Louis giggles (fucking hell, blame Harry), pulling into the parking lot of the local ice cream shoppe. The gravel crunches under his tires, unusually loud in the almost silent night, apart from spread apart animal calls and cars that occasionally pass. He parks and turns the engine off, content with just sitting with Harry until they’re let in.

Louis’ phone vibrates and he trusts Harry enough to read the text aloud; he’s not hiding anything. Harry reads (at a snail’s pace, like he seems to do everything), “It’s open. Come in.”

Unbuckling his seat belt, Louis releases Harry’s hand and uses one to open the door and the other to steal his phone from Harry, who seems to have appointed himself the one to go through Louis’ text messages. 

“Let’s go, turtle,” Louis teases. Harry walks around the front of the car, hands tucked into his pockets. When he reaches Louis, Louis wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close, bathing in the warmth Harry supplies. 

“How are we getting in?” Harry questions, tilting his head so it fits on top of Louis’ and Louis can slot his head in the space between Harry’s head and shoulders. His curls tickle Louis’ face, but Louis finds he doesn’t mind it; he kind of enjoys it, if he’s being honest, although he’ll deny it later on if anyone asks and pretend it’s annoying. 

“Zayn - his dad owns the place,” Louis replies. “It comes in handy sometimes when I just need to get away, or when I don’t want to deal with my family.”

“Zayn scares me,” Harry confesses, seeking as if almost to curl in on himself. Louis stops moving, shooting Harry an incredulous look, disbelieving even. 

“Why?”

“He seems…churlish.”

“Did you swallow a dictionary or something on the way over here?” Louis chuckles and watches as the twinkle slowly makes its way back into Harry’s eyes. He’s happy to know he’s the one doing this to Harry, cheering him up when someone else could have easily done it (of maybe not, who knows). 

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” Harry asks timidly. 

“Oh, he doesn’t.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” Harry snorts. 

“Any time.”

“That was called sarcasm, Lou-boo,” Harry coughs out between giggles. 

“I know, young Harry,” Louis says in a posh voice. “It’s more of a language to me than English ever will be!” Harry is still laughing uncontrollably as they reach the door, all his troubles washing away. Good, Louis thinks, I should be the one that’s able to do that for him. 

Louis opens the door for Harry, gesturing for him to enter first. Harry sighs dramatically but walks through anyway, receiving a hard smack on the butt from Louis for his troubles. 

“I see I’m still the girl,” Harry mumbles under his breath into Louis’ ear. “Didn’t peg you as the guy that was into that kind of stuff, but I don have a problem with it.”

He walks up tithe counter where Zayn is standing like it’s no big deal that he just caused Louis’ blood to pound in his ears and a thousand different sexual scenarios to run through his mind. 

“You coming, Lou?” Harry questions from the counter, leaning on it on his forearms. He and Zayn are trying not to talk to each other without making it look like they’re trying not to talk to each other - needless to say, it is awkward. 

“I will be tonight,” Louis responds cheekily, throwing in a wink. It achieves the affect he hopes; Harry throws his head back and laughs, a sound he seems to only let loose when Louis is around. It really boosts Louis’ self confidence, to have someone laugh at all his jokes even when they aren’t very funny. 

“Save it for the bedroom,” Zayn complains, rubbing his temples vigorously. “Please.”

“As you wish, Your Heinous,” Louis says, adding in a bow and following through with a curtsy. Harry giggles childishly and extends his hand in a gesture that means “Louis Tomlinson you better take my hand or else.” It’s as scary as Harry is able to be so Louis clasps the outstretched hand, and the PDA doesn’t kill him so he supposes it’s all right. 

“Harry, what kind of ice cream would you like?” Zayn asks as politely as he can manage. He still intimidates Harry. 

Harry answers in a quivering voice, “Uhh, cookie dough.”

Zayn only gives Harry one scoop, in a cup, because the cones are in the back and he doesn’t feel like Harry deserves any more. “And for you, Lou?”

“Same,” he mutters, giving a light kiss to Harry’s cheek, stretching on his tip-toes to have to do even that. Louis accepts his cup of ice cream gratefully. He drags Harry to a table in the way back, despite there being no one else there. 

“I guess I’ll leave you two alone then,” Zayn says awkwardly, his hands in his front pockets while he rocks back and forth on his toes and heels. “Close up behind you, and don’t make this a thing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees absentmindedly, far more interested in using the pad of his thumb to wipe ice cream from the corner of Harry’s mouth. 

“Thank you, Boo,” Harry says, voice full of…Louis is at a loss for words to describe the emotions in Harry’s voice. “It really means a lot.”

“It’s weird,” Louis begins, “I feel like I’ve known you seen we were young and in diapers. I mean, I suppose we have, haven’t we? We just…didn’t exactly know each other. I really appreciate you kissing me that day, or else I wouldn’t have received what was in front of me the entire time.”

“Are you going to propose now?” Harry teases while a dimpling smile as the corners of his eyes crinkle and his pupils sparkle. “Because you’re going about it all wrong. You’re meant to get on one knee and offer a ring. And it’s a bit unconventional to propose on the second date, don’t you think?”

“We’re a bit unconventional, really,” Louis adds. “Harry Styles, I promise I will at least attend your wedding because I do not plan on ever letting you disappear from my life, no matter what happens and what is thrown our way.”

“This feels like falling in love,” Harry sings, voice cracking. “We’re moving a bit faster than is normal, don’t you think?”

“I’ve already mentioned we’re unconventional, haven’t I?” Harry gives Louis’ hand a squeeze and they finish their ice cream in silence. 

\- - -

“Mom, can Harry stay here tonight?” Louis asks tentatively. 

“It’s a school night, Louis! You know my rules on that!” Jay protests weakly. She’ll never be able to hold her ground when it comes to Harry, she’s always had a soft spot for the boy, ever since Little League. 

“But he was in an argument with his dad and-“ 

Jay cuts him off with a heavy sigh, “He’s sleeping in your room though.” Louis fist pumps his hand into the air. “And no funny business! I do not want to hear a noise! Do you understand me, Louis William Tomlinson?”

“I understand.” Louis nods solemnly. Not that he had planned on doing anything, not in a house with no locks and four sisters. No way in hell was he going to take that chance. 

He rounds the corner to see Harry waiting anxiously, arms crossed and leaning against the door and looking intensely adorable. 

“You keep looking like that and I’m going to find it very hard to follow the ‘no funny business’ rule.” Harry’s face scrunched in confusion for a moment before Louis distracts him with a loud cry of, “Race you up the stairs!” and takes off running. Harry reacts quickly and races after him. 

They hurriedly get ready for bed, rushing through the motions of getting into pajamas and brushing their teeth and the like. Louis dashes down the hall with Harry on his heels, both shirtless. Louis reaches his bedroom and flies through the door, jumping on his bed and bouncing as much as he can while he’s sitting. 

Harry chuckles to himself and closes the door quietly behind him. “And say that I’m the one who’s like a child.”

“Just get over here and cuddle, you cute fucker,” Louis says, crawling under the covers and yawning. He hadn’t realized how sleepy he was until he hit the soft sheets. 

Harry climbs into bed as well, curling into Louis’ side easily. Louis kisses his forehead and Harry kisses Louis’ neck. 

“Goodnight, Boobear,” Harry whispers, eyes already closed. 

“Goodnight, Haz. Sleep tight.”

They both do.


	6. Chapter Six

Harry wakes up first, the beginnings of morning just filtering through Louis’ dirty window. He rolls over onto his other side, facing Louis now. He wonders if it’d be rude to wake the sleeping boy, then decides he doesn’t care. 

Harry pokes Louis’ side with his finger until Louis mumbles something unintelligible, eyes slowly fluttering open and looking cloudy with sleep. He yawns adorably, eyes scrunching and nose wrinkling. 

“What time is it?” he asks, voice creaky from lack of use all night. He cuddles closer into Harry’s side, seeking warmth. 

“I don’t know,” Harry answers honestly. “I woke up and decided life was boring without you.” Louis smiles and kisses Harry’s neck, breathing out cool air on the damp skin there, causing Harry to shiver. 

“You’re too sweet.” Louis licks his dry lips, wondering if it was too early to go downstairs and get something to drink, maybe scrape something together for breakfast. “Hungry?”

“Thirsty.” Harry thinks for a moment. “And I have to piss.”

Louis belts out a laugh, loud enough to startle Harry but too quiet to wake anyone in the house. “You’re something else, Styles.”

“It’s a turn on,” Harry mumbles, suddenly sleepy again. He resembles a kitten, Louis thinks. Except the thought of doing anything sexual with a kitten repulses him, so he decides Harry just looks like a tired teenager. A fit, tired teenager. 

Louis’ alarm goes off, startling them both. ‘The A Team’ by Ed Sheeran gently plays from the speakers, erasing the quiet from the room. 

“Guess that answers the question of what time it is,” Harry says, eyes suddenly bright and rid of sleepiness. He rolls over quickly, landing with his feet on the floor, unsteady. He gains his bearings soon enough, padding out of the room to go to the bathroom. His feet stick to the cold ground, waking him up with each step. 

He hears Louis following him closely behind, and he feels the smaller boy wrap around his waist from behind once he crosses the doorway of the bathroom. 

“I don’t really feel like going to school today,” Harry admits, leaning back into the warmth of Louis. Louis swears he can feel Harry purring.

“I never feel like going to school,” Louis says, pressing his forehead to Harry’s cold shoulder. 

“I would say we could ditch, but we have the game tonight,” Harry mumbles, removing Louis’ arms from around his waist with a sigh. “So we have to go or we can’t play.”

“God dammit,” Louis whispers, trying not to disturb whatever bubble they’ve found themselves into.

“Don’t worry, I’ll comfort you when you lose,” Harry says cheekily, picking up his toothbrush and liberally squeezing toothpaste on the tip, Louis whacking his back all the way.

\- - -

They get ready, feeling rushed with the excitement of the game that night. Louis sneaks in a kiss whenever possible and that surprises Harry; he hadn’t thought Louis to be the affectionate type. He’d always seen the older boy looking stony faced and cold, but now he realized it was only because of the wall he’d built around himself, to keep from getting hurt. 

Once ready, Louis tugs Harry by the hand down the stairs, the two boys racing side by side while running to the kitchen. Jay only clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes motherly when they burst into the kitchen door, breathing fast, eyes happy, and cheeks flushed with the movement and absolute, pure joy. 

She sets two dishes stacked high with pancakes, bacon, and eggs onto the table. The girls have already left for school, leaving early with their rides so they have more time to gossip and do their makeup, or whatever it is that girls do. Harry and Louis take their seats, Harry pulling Louis’ chair out for him. Louis smiles graciously, pleasantly surprised. 

“Such a gentleman,” he jokes, though his smiling and sincere eyes go against his tone. 

“I don’t meant to interrupt,” Jay says, holding her purse in both of her hands and smiling lovingly at her son. “But, I need to get going. Goodbye, Boobear, I love you. Have fun at school today. I’ll see you at your game tonight?”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Louis confirms with a quick nodding movement of his head. “Love you, mom. Work hard!”

Jay laughs, kisses both boy’s foreheads (to which Louis complains about but the love in his eyes gives him away) and then she’s gone. 

“Your mom’s lovely,” Harry compliments, squeezing Louis’ hand where it rests on the table. 

“You don’t have to say that, you’ve already won her over,” Louis grumbles, slouching in his chair and pushing his plate away. It’s all cleared, every last crumb eaten up. Harry briefly wonders how the boy stays so in shape when he eats enough to feed an army. 

Harry laughs full out, head thrown back and eyes crinkling in the corners. Louis finds it charming and finds it hard to stay annoyed (not that he’d actually been annoyed in the first place).

“Boobear,” Harry begins (Louis lets the nickname slide because it’s Harry, what more explanation do you need?), “you’re lovely, as well.”

“You’re too charming for your own good,” Louis says, leaning over and delivering a quick peck to Harry’s plump and inviting lips. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Harry says cheekily, throwing a wink Louis’ way. “We should get going. We need to stop at my house and get my bag for school.”

“Righty-o,” Louis agrees, pushing his chair back with a concerning squeak. “Let’s get going, Harry dear.”

\- - -

In the car they scream stupid love song lyrics out the open windows and let the wind blow their hair crazy and grin the whole way to school, even when they have to sneak into Harry’s house and get his bag. They pull up to the school, overflowing with a mixture of overwhelmingly exciting emotions. 

There had been rumors going around school about Harry and Louis, but now they’re confirmed when Harry has Louis pinned again his car, running his fingers up and down the smaller boy’s sides, seeking the laugh he craves so much. People don’t even bother to hide their amazed stares, unable to recall the last time they’d seen Louis Tomlinson with a look like that on his face. 

They part finally with a quick kiss, each going the opposite way to their respective classes. There are hushed whispers, silenced when either boy walks past the offenders. There had been speculation since middle school about whether Louis liked dick or not, but there had never really been any doubts that Harry Styles was straight as a ruler. It seems that now they find out he’s as straight as a bendy ruler. 

\- - - 

The rest of the day passes slow and uneventful. Louis and Harry torment the teacher in their shared class and Harry gives the full details of his and Louis’ relationship to his friends. They warn him to be careful but otherwise approve. 

When the dismissal bell rings, releasing the restless students for the day, Harry quickly gathers his things from his locker and walks leisurely to the parking lot. He takes his time, greeting friends and smile at people that pass him. Louis still isn’t there when he reaches the car, so he waits, leaned against the door and daydreaming. He doesn’t even notice wen Louis comes up beside him, scaring him to his grave. 

“You fucker,” Harry grumbles, running his ribs where Louis had jabbed him. 

“You love it,” Louis sing-songs, pushing Harry aside to open the passenger door for said boy. He watches Harry climb into the car, all long torso and too long legs, and makes sure the younger boy is fully in the car before gently closing the door. Louis walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, opening the door and gracelessly falling into the car. “I’ll run you by your house to get your baseball stuff then we can get ready at mine?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry complies, and Louis is off, speeding down roads and holding tightly to Harry’s hand, the boy who’s suddenly become his anchor. 

\- - -

The ride to the field is silent, each boy in their pre-game mode. Harry is focusing intently on imagining perfect plays and pitches and hits, while Louis is studying how hot Harry looks in his baseball uniform. Although he’s seen Harry in a baseball uniform for many years, he’s not been able to appreciate it until now. 

After Louis parks, Harry gets out first. Louis meets him at the front of the car. He only expects a quick goodbye, maybe a “see you after the game.” He doesn’t expect the grabbing of his hips, the being pulled against another body. Harry kisses him harshly, with a purpose. When they break apart, lips pinked and kiss swollen, Harry only whispers a low, “Good luck,” before joining his team for warm up. 

Louis can hear his team cat calling and making vulgar comments in high pitched voices, but all he can focus on is the whooshing in his ears and the weakness in his knees. 


	7. Chapter Seven

“Alright, ladies,” Robin says firmly, “we are up, one to nothing. Don’t blow this! We may finally beat those skunks, bring them back down to earth.”

“Skunks?” Niall laughs. “Is that the best you could come up with?”

“He just doesn’t want to corrupt your virgin ears,” Harry teases, receiving a cuff on the ear in return. The team laughs and Niall turns bright red, resembling a tomato…with blonde hair. 

“Fuck off, Styles,” Niall says before jogging out onto the field to take his position behind the plate. 

“What’s his problem?” Sean asks, a curious, questioning look in his eyes. His eyebrows knit together in genuine concern for the blonde boy, who stands with his arms crossed waiting for Harry to head out to the mound. “Is he okay?”

“Nice of you to care,” Harry says, “but it’s a personal matter. I’ll apologize and talk to him later. Right now we have a game to win!”

The team cheers, excited to begin the inning and finish off the game. It’s been a long and tiring game, each team battling hard and standing tough. Harry’s team had finally managed to score a run on an overthrow. They’re running on the idea of finally being able to win against Louis’ team and the prospect of going home for the night. 

They hustle to their positions, just waiting for Harry to throw his designated two pitches before receiving the okay from the umpire. If Niall’s throws back to Harry are wild and harder than usual, no one is going to mention it. 

“Play ball!” the umpire cries, his voice high pitched and not quite matching his churlish appearance. The first batter, number twelve, steps up to the plate and hits his bat against the plate in a succession of three quick whacks. He crouches into a batting stance that can’t be comfortable, swinging his bat back and forth by his ears. He stills as Harry begins his wind up, bringing the ball up and past his ear, releasing with a flick of his wrist. The ball curves and the player swings, his stance so bad he almost knocks himself over with the force with his swing. 

Two more pitches, and he swings and misses both times. Harry is on fire, unable to be put out, burning bright and shining brighter than the sun and stars together. 

The next batter is Louis, looking wracked by nerves. He takes one long, slow deep breath before stepping into the box, his hands gripping tightly around the handle of the bat. It’s not a good grip, but he’ll be able to get away with it. 

The first pitch Harry throws is a ball, riding high above the strikezone. Niall almost has to jump to catch it. Louis relaxes visibly, comforted by the fact that Harry is just as nervous as he is. Harry allows himself a moment to compose, taking deep breaths before pitching again. The ball flies, a strike. Louis gets his bat around just in time, sending the object soaring to right field. He runs gracefully, looking like there’s no stop in sight. There is, of course; he’s held at first base. 

The next batter is Zayn. He watches the first two pitches go by, timing Harry up. When the third pitch is thrown right down the middle, Zayn grinds one out down the first base line, allowing Louis to advance to second while he’s thrown out at first. With two outs and a runner in scoring position, able to tie the game up, things are looking good for both teams. 

Stan steps up to the plate, looking calm and confident. And appearance is everything. If you appear nervous and timid, everyone else will soar farther than you; but if you’re confident in yourself and your abilities, you will be able to compete in stride with everyone else in the game. 

Harry knows that this is it, this is his chance to make his dad proud of him again, make his dad love him. 

But he blows it. 

He throws a perfect pitch, right down the pipe. Stan makes square contact, the ball hitting just the right spot on his bat; the sweet spot. It’s game over, as the players and spectators watch the ball soar over their heads, just a white speck in the sky that has ruined yet another game for Harry’s team. Yet another game won in the last inning, a game winning home run. 

Harry crumples to the ground in disappoint, head resting between his knees because he no longer has any strength to hold it up. He wraps his, what he once thought of as lucky throwing arms, around his knees and allows himself to cry. He allows himself to be upset for that one moment, before he composes himself. He stands up and he’s no longer sad, but angry. Furious. But mostly disappointed, in himself and in the ways things played out. 

He trudges back to the dug out with the rest of his heartbroken team, no one able to quite grasp what had happened and comment on it. 

Harry takes his time packing his things, reluctant to face the pity filled people are sure to throw at him. He doesn’t want to face the team that he let down. Once everyone has cleared out from the dug out, Harry zips the last of his stuff into his bag. 

“I’d like to talk to, Harry,” Robin says, cracking his knuckles individually, each giving a loud pop. The sound makes Harry flinch, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders. It’s a tactic he’s been using since he was around ten or so, when he wouldn’t want to be spotted or he wanted to seem like he was invisible to all those around him. “I’m really disappointed in you.”

“I know.”

“You let us all down tonight,” Robin says, words slow and steady, as if he’s speaking to a startled animal or confused child. 

“I know.”

“I want you to stop dating that Tomlinson boy.”

“I know.”

“Will you?” Robin asks. “I know I was supportive before, but it’s really hurting the team. And the team comes first, in all situations. I need you to do what I ask, just one time in your life, Harry.”

“No.”

“I was afraid you might say that.” Robin gives a patronizing smile, as if he weren’t afraid of that at all. “Which is why, I’m sad to inform you, you are no longer welcome at the Styles’ home until you have no connection with the Tomlinsons. I’m sorry, but you are no son of mine while you are friendly with a Tomlinson.”

“I don’t know why you can’t just be happy for me!” Harry calls out in frustration, balling his hands into fists. He feels the need to find a punching bag (in the metaphorical sense where he needs something to take his frustration out on). “I’m happy! Maybe not right at this moment, but in general! Louis is nothing like Mark, just as I am nothing like you!”

“I’m not going to stand here and have such a petty argument with you,” Robin says, mouth set in a sneer. It does nothing for his face, contorting his in ugly ways. His eyes that normally shine bright like the night sky and the sun in the morning are lined with disgust. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Robin says, looking everything but. “I don’t want to see your face until you’re with someone more acceptable then…” He growls the next part, “Tomlinson.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but he knows that if he even tries to attempt to speak he’ll break down and cry. It doesn’t matter though, as Robin has finished gathering his stuff and is marching away from the field. Harry knows he’s angry and he’ll come around, but he can’t help but growl a little (more than a little upset) at his father’s actions. 

He notices Louis standing just outside his own team’s dugout, bag left abandoned on the ground. Louis looks like he’s heartbroken for Harry, eyes wide and chin wobbling. Even from this distance he knows Louis knows what’s going on. 

“Did you catch all that?” Harry asks, rhetorically as he begins to cry.  Cry because they lost the game, cry because he fell in love, cry because he really just hates himself in the moment. “Because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to explain it all to you.”

“I understood what I need to,” Louis calls from across the field, making his way over to where Harry stands shaking. “Need a hug?” Harry nods and Louis jogs the rest of the distance between them. 

Harry opens his arms and Louis falls into them, his arms wrapping tightly around Harry’s slender waist. He clings as tight as he dares, holds on because Harry really needs the comfort. 

“Let it out, babe,” Louis whispers soothingly, voice so soft and urgent. He holds Harry and lets him cry and holds in his own tears. “Just let it out. I’m here, ssh, you’re not alone. Just let yourself cry, it’s okay.”

Louis’ not sure how long they stand there, but the sun has set and it’s cold and they’re both shivering. And as the sun has set, Harry’s tears turn to anger and suddenly he’s not shaking with his sobs, he’s shaking with anger and frustration and heartbreak and loss. Louis feels Harry stiffen and then he’s pushed away; something that hurts his already aching heart more than he’ll ever willingly admit. But Harry is ruthless, flinging his limbs around and wailing at the top of his lungs. His tears have stopped and he screams his hatred for everything that has ever done him wrong, has ever hurt him. 

“Harry, calm down,” Louis says, but it’s useless. He watches helplessly as Harry grips the fence tensely with his fists and kicks at it with his cleat repeatedly, letting out sounds filled with anger and resentment. “Please Harry, calm down!” He rushes over to Harry to stop him before he causes himself any real damage. He gently places a hand on Harry’s back and he can feel Harry relax under his fingertips. 

“Louis, do you know what just happened?” Harry asks, through gritted teeth as he lets go of the fence and slowly turns around. “I have basically just been disowned by the man I have looked up to my entire life. You expect me to calm down?”

Louis victoriously shakes his head no, scared by this new side of Harry he’s never seen before. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, though. Please, take your anger out on something else before you hurt yourself.”

“What should I take my anger out on then?” Harry speaks as though talking to a small child who’s he’s just caught in the act of doing something they’re not supposed to be doing. “I’ve literally lost the most important thing to me. My family doesn’t want me any more. Do you know what that feels like.”

“Yes,” Louis replies in a soft voice. “It’s very heart breaking. You feel like crying and your throat closes up and your chest tightens. Your heart rate picks up and you feel like you could hurt everything in sight, while still managing to feel so weak. I know what that feels like, Harry. And I know how much it can hurt you, but stop blaming yourself. Because sooner than later, you’ll realize it wasn’t your fault.”

“Who’s fault is it?” Harry asks, anger quickly diminishing. He sounds scared now, slouching his shoulders again, trying to make himself disappear. 

Louis shrugs. “You’ll have to figure that one out on your own. Come home with me, babe?” He extends his hand, fingers spread wide, the perfect place for Harry’s own spidery fingers to lay. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees breathlessly. “Yeah.” He takes Louis’ outstretched hand and they grab their gear. They walk silently, because all the words that needed to be said have already been spoken. 

Louis’ car engine is almost silent when he starts it up, music playing softly over the speaker. He pulls it of the lot and says, “We’ll be home soon, babe.”

Harry only nods and thinks, he won’t really be going home, probably not for a while. 


	8. Chapter Eight

 

“Hey, Harry,” Jay says with a sympathetic smile when the two boys walk in through the front door. “Staying another night at the Tomlinson Inn?”

 

Harry attempts to smile but mostly it’s just a twitch of his lips. “Yeah. Do you mind?”

 

“Of course not!” Jay exclaims, wrapping one arm around each boy’s shoulder and hugging them close to her. Harry fights back tears, because the warm embrace feels quite motherly and reminds him of the hugs his own mother used to give him when he was younger. They stopped when he was thirteen though, because then apparently he was “too old” and needed to learn to be independent.

 

“Thanks,” he says, and this time he actually manages to smile, a real, genuine smile of gratitude. 

 

“Well, we’re quite tired, dearest mother, so if you’d kindly let us go, we’ll be off to bed,” Louis says, pretending to be posh and tipping an imaginary hat, all the while struggling to get out of his mother’s tight embrace. She only squeezes tighter, and Harry can feel it getting a little tougher to breathe, but he would rather be stolen of air than stolen from Jay’s hug. 

 

“Not so fast, Louis William,” she says sternly. “You have chores to do.”

 

“I’ll do them in the morning! I want to comfort Harry’s wounded ego,” he teases, his eyes darting quickly to Harry’s, adverting them quickly. 

 

“All right,” she sighs, releasing the two boys. “No monkey business! I mean it, Louis!” But it falls on deaf ears as the boys run and giggle all the way up the stair case. She can’t bring herself to be upset with them, as they make noise and most likely wake up the twins, because she’s too fond of Harry and loves her own son just as much.

 

The two boys fall onto the bed, a mass and pile of giggling and laughter. Louis rolls over onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him. He smiles up shyly, biting his bottom lip. Harry smiles back, happy to be held by someone who cares for him. 

 

“I need to tell you something, Harry,” Louis says, closing his eyes and letting his smile slip from his face. Though, he doesn’t look upset. Just calm and content. 

 

“Go on,” Harry says, if a little skeptical. 

 

“I want you to know that you’re amazing,” Louis says seriously, staring into Harry’s eyes. “I want you to know that you should never listen to all that shit your dad says to you. I know what you’re feeling, you know? And it’s shit, really. Just don’t let it get to you, because you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

 

Harry takes a sharp inhale of breath, eyes never leaving Louis’. “God. Louis. I don’t know what to say. Just. What did I do to deserve you?”

 

Louis giggles childishly, cheeks pinking barely, so faint that it’s almost like a trick of the light. “I think it’s the other way around. What did I do to deserve you?” And before Harry can retort with some reply about how it is most definitely not the other way around, Louis kisses him, softly and lovingly on the lips, gripping Harry’s back tightly, holding on for dear life. 

 

Harry frames Louis’ head with his forearms, using his thumbs to gently stroke Louis’ cheek. They pull away, staying close enough that their lips just barely brush as they whisper to each other. 

 

“Harry?” Louis says timidly, appearing shy. Which is unlike him, the outgoing teenager who makes friends so easily and can bring even the most introvert of all people out of their shell. 

 

“Yeah?” Harry responds with a light press of a kiss to Louis’ defined cheekbone. 

 

“Will you make love to me?”

 

+

 

“This might be a little uncomfortable,” Harry warns, kissing Louis’ stomach. Louis giggles, a chiming bell sound that causes Harry to involuntarily smile. 

 

“Harry I’ve fingered myself before,” Louis says, pushing Harry’s fringe back from his forehead and smiling calmly. “It’s what comes after that I’m a little nervous about.”

 

“No reason to be nervous,” Harry reassures. “We can stop any time you want to. This is seriously just all about you. If you have any pain, tell me. If you don’t want to do this any more, we don’t have to.”

 

“Okay,” Louis says shakily, overwhelmed by how sincere and genuine Harry is. “Well then. Let’s…do this then.”

 

Harry smiles again, wide and teeth showing, dimples set deep into his cheeks. He slides his middle finger easily into Louis, meeting almost no resistance. He slowly begins thrusting it in and out, curling it upwards and maintaining eye contact with Louis to gauge his reaction.

 

“More,” Louis mouths, rubbing a thumb over Harry’s soft, flushed cheek. 

 

Harry nods, biting his lip in concentration. He slides in another finger almost as easily as the first, slowly pumping it in and out and kissing the insides of Louis’ thighs. He begins scissoring them, watching Louis’ face as it twists in pleasure. 

 

“Can I add one more, do you think?” Harry asks, quietly, his third finger teasing just gently around Louis’ hole. Louis nods and he slips it inside, this finger meeting the most resistance, but not enough to cause any alarm. “Relax, baby,” Harry says as he feels Louis’ body start to tense. In an attempt to get Louis to loosen up, he begins peppering kisses on Louis’ stomach, sucking gentle love bites into the firm, golden skin. He uses his free hand to stroke the area where Louis’ hip meets his thigh. 

 

He pumps his fingers, scissoring them and swirling them until it becomes easy, a slick slide of skin against skin. 

 

“Are you ready?” Harry asks, glancing up at Louis yet again, his green eyes staring deeply into Louis’ blue ones. Louis nods in confirmation and Harry pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the bed sheet. Louis giggles and pulls Harry up for a quick, sweet kiss. Harry pulls back and smiles at the boy underneath him, who just a short whole ago used to be his rival. 

 

Harry reaches for the lube, spreading a liberal amount along his length. He wants this to be as painless as possible for Louis, who is nervous and has tensed up on the bed. He circles the head of his cock around Louis’ hole, watching it tense up. 

 

“Are you sure?” Harry asks again, barely pushing in, so just the tip is inside. Louis nods again, looking fondly annoyed at Harry’s concern. Harry slowly begins to thrust in, inch by inch until his hips are cradled against Louis’ bum. 

 

He grips Louis’ hip with one hand, using the other to prop himself up so he doesn’t crush Louis below him. Yeah, it’s awkward because it’s their first time, but he doesn’t need to suffocate Louis. That’s beyond awkward. 

 

“Move,” Louis whispers, so close his breath tickles Harry’s ear and disturbs the curls resting there. “Please, move.”

 

Harry nods in concentration, pulling out almost as slowly as before, until just the tip of his cock is inside Louis. He thrusts back in, gradually picking up speed as he thrusts in and out, moans escaping Louis’ mouth, followed by curses and Harry’s own name. 

 

“God, Harry,” Louis groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. His fringe sticks to his forehead with sweat, and Harry thinks he looks like the definition of sin. “Yes, right there,” he moans as Harry hits that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him. 

 

“Louis,” Harry whines quietly into Louis’ neck. “Not going to last long.”

 

“Me neither,” Louis pants, gripping Harry’s back with his nails as Harry gives a particularly hard thrust, hitting his prostate and making him see stars. 

 

Harry removes the hand resting on Louis’ hip and uses it to pump Louis’ cock in time with his thrusts. It only takes a couple more thrusts before Louis is coming all over himself and Harry’s hand with a soft whine. Harry follows close behind, Louis’ whine being the final thing to push him over the edge. 

 

Harry gently pulls out, pecking both of Louis’ cheeks as he winces at the sensitivity. 

 

“You did great,” Harry praises, wiping them off with discarded clothes. 

 

“We need to do that more,” Louis commands, rolling over to snuggle into Harry’s inviting arms. 

 

“Okay,” Harry agrees, drifting off with Louis following right behind. 

 

+

 

“You’re so fucking worthless!” Niall’s father yells, smashing his empty bottle on the counter above Niall’s head. “I asked you to do one fucking thing, and you can’t even do that?”

 

Niall covers his ears and begins to sob, his father screaming and yelling loudly. He often wonders if the neighbors can hear him, and if they can, why don’t they help? Just as that thought forms in his mind, his father begins kicking him, a hard, repeated action to his ribs. 

 

“You can’t even take this like a man!” his father yells, grabbing another beer bottle and downing almost half of it, kicking Niall one last time before saying, “Get out of my sight. I don’t even want to see you until tomorrow night, which you’ll spend cleaning up the mess you just fucking made. Worthless piece of shit.”

 

Niall scrambles to his feet, grabbing only his coat and shoes as he runs as fast as he can from the house. He doesn’t have a car to use to get away, but he knows his father is too lazy to chase after him.

 

He’s not sure how long he runs, but he finally slows down at the outskirts of down town, which means he must have run a fair distance. He’s panting and out of breath, but at least he’s safe. Though, without a home. And he can’t go to Harry’s, because he’s staying at Tomlinson’s, and it’s not like he can just show up there. 

 

“Hey!” a familiar voice that sets him on edge yells from across the street. “You’re Styles’ buddy, aren’t you? What are you doing out here so late?”

 

Niall turns, prepared to run again, but what he sees isn’t what he expected. He had expected a hostile face, but instead the caller looks intrigued, and that’s shocking. 

 

Niall would have never expected that from his rival.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this because I'm lazy oops. I'll probably read through if later and cry at all the mistakes I made.

Niall is a deer caught in headlights, frozen in spot and eyes wide in surprise and fear. He doesn't know what to do. He wonders briefly is Zayn is going to try and beat him up, but throws away that idea quickly, because he knows he could take Zayn if he had to.   
  
"Are you okay?" Zayn asks hesitantly, breaking Niall from his conflicted thoughts. Niall shakes his head before he can think it through and watches as Zayn's face breaks out into an unreadable emotion. "Are you running from someone?"  
  
Again, Niall shakes his head. Because he's not exactly running from his dad, is he? He's just sort of running away from his home for the night. "My dad told me to leave for the night. He was pretty pissed off."  
  
"Your lip is bleeding," Zayn says instead, crossing the street and coming within one yard of Niall and studying his face and expression carefully. "Need a place to crash?"  
  
Niall pauses before giving his answer, not wanting to impose but not really having any other option. He nods ruefully and sighs on defeat.   
  
"No shame, bro," Zayn says, waving his hand and gesturing for Niall to follow him to his car. "I live in an apartment above my garage. Nobody will ever know you're there, if you don't want them to."  
  
Niall smiles gratefully, still silent as he follows Zayn to the beat up car parked at the side of the empty street. He timidly opens the door, expecting the smoky smell that overwhelms his senses as he sits down in the plump seat.   
  
"Sorry for the smell," Zayn apologizes sincerely, throwing a quick smile in Niall's direction. "This is one of the only places I'm able to catch a smoke."  
  
"It's no problem," Niall reassures, leaning his head back against the seat and emitting a quiet sigh, closing his eyes and trying not to fall asleep. "I'm used to it."  
  
Zayn's silent for a second, trying to figure out how to word his next question, before throwing caution to the wind and asking it anyway. "Can I ask what happened? What were you running from? Because I'd like to know if I'm going to be harvesting a wanted criminal."  
  
"You're not, don't worry," Niall says, too tired to even attempt a smile at Zayn's weak joke. "I'm running from my dad. He was pretty pissed and told me to get out of his sight until tomorrow."  
  
Zayn releases a shuddering breath, hands tightly gripping the wheel, his whole body tensing and knuckles turning white. "That's some serious shit."  
  
Niall shrugs noncommittally, rolling his head to the side and opening one eye to look at Zayn's profile. "Yeah, well. What am I supposed to do about it?"  
  
"Tell the police?" Zayn suggests, pulling into a gravel driveway. "I'm terrible with advice. The best thing I can do is get you some ice cream and weed." Zayn smiles regretfully and climbs gracefully out of the car, Niall following close behind.   
  
"So you're better with distractions?" Niall asks, an idea forming in his mind. He's not sure how great of an idea it is, but he'll do anything to forget his father.   
  
"I guess you could say that," Zayn says, smirking slightly as he catches onto what Niall is hinting at.   
  
Niall thanks The Lord above and smiles shyly at his feet before crudely asking, "Wanna hook up?"  
  
+  
  
The morning dawns with an obnoxious pounding at the door, abruptly pulling both Niall and Zayn from their peaceful slumbers. Zayn's arm is draped heavily across Niall's waist, overheating the blonde boy, who's forehead is damp with sweat. Otherwise, he's perfectly comfortable and would be content not to ever move.   
  
Except. The person at the door continues to knock.   
  
"The fuck you want?" Zayn grumbles into his pillow, not even lifting his head or opening his eyes. He only tightens his hold around Niall's waist (and Niall will deny that his heart skipped a beat at that) and begins snoring faintly again.   
  
"Malik, I will break this door down!" The high pitched drawl of Louis Tomlinson is like a shot of adrenaline into Niall's veins, shocking him awake and knocking him onto the floor. He quickly pulls himself off and shoots a panicked look around the room. There's nowhere for him to hide. Tomlinson is going to catch him in Zayn's room, in nothing but a pair of boxers that aren't even his.   
  
"Aha!" Tomlinson says as the door swings open, a key held between his fingers. He smiles smugly to himself before catching sight of Niall and dropping the key onto the floor with a dull clinging sound. "What the fuck are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm the distraction man," Zayn grumbles unhelpfully from his spot on the bed, face turned into the pillow so his words all slur together.   
  
"Did you two have sex last night?" Louis asks, sounding furious and looking hurt. Niall's not sure what he did wrong, but he's beginning to feel self-conscious about his almost naked body under Louis' scrutinizing gaze.   
  
"Yes." Niall wants the floor to open up and shoot him straight to hell, or whatever fate awaits him after his life is over. Which he wants to happen right now. "We did."  
  
"Can I have a word with Zayn?" Louis asks, voice sugary-sweet and falsely happy.   
  
"No," Zayn says, rolling over to the flip Louis the bird. "Sorry. But it's probably not going to happen again so there's nothing to discuss so I'll see you at school, thanks." Zayn then promptly rolls over and falls back asleep, his snores dancing their way to Niall's ears.   
  
"I'll see you around," Louis growls, turning on his heel and stalking out, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that almost knocks Niall over.   
  
"Your best friend's a charmer," Niall grumbles, though it falls on deaf ears as Zayn continues to sleep on, completely dead to the world. "Good for nothing bastard."  
  
Niall isn't ready to face the day, so he climbs back into bed, skillfully avoiding the arm that Zayn tries to wrap around him, and cocoons himself in the comforter, the soft fabric soaking up his tears.   
  
Zayn had said it would never happen again.   
  
In the depths of his mind, early in the morning when just the barest hint of sunlight soaking in through the open curtains, Niall admits to himself that maybe he had wanted it to happen again.  
  
+  
  
"Did you know that your best friend and my best friend are sleeping together?" Louis asks as he's climbing into his car, pulling out of the driveway as fast as he can.   
  
"No," Harry says, face scrunched up in confusion. "I wasn't aware of that. Niall's always talked about how much he hates Zayn. I would have thought he'd never be able to be in the same room as him, much less stick his dick in him."  
  
Louis snorts, keeping his eyes on the road, despite how much all he wants to do is stare at Harry. He could probably stare at Harry all day long, if anybody let him. Harry was just so beautiful, and he didn't even realize it, which frustrated Louis endlessly. How could Harry not see what everyone else could?  
  
"I think Zayn would top," Louis says firmly, with the slightest hint of teasing. "Niall is such a bottom boy."  
  
Harry chuckles quietly in the passenger seat, mostly lost in thought as he stares at the passing scenery through the window. "You're even more of a bottom boy."  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Styles," Louis jokes, pulling into his own driveway. "Tell me what's on your mind?"  
  
Harry shakes his head, turning to glance at Louis. Smiling resentfully, Harry says, "I'll tell you later. If I tell you what's on my mind, we'll be here forever. And your mother will kill us if we miss school."  
  
Louis grins back and nods his head in agreement. "Promise you'll tell me later?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
They seal the deal with handjobs in Louis' driveway.


End file.
